Charming

Dear Ivy,

Thank you for your charming poem.

I think you may have forgotten the comma between Hudson and Thames?

Add chocolate to the Rhine, Hudson Thames and Neckar,
make a cappuccino for Lake Erie,
and kopi tubruk for Asia, with a solid lump of sugar
to dissolve slowly.

I'll keep you up to date with publication dates etc - I have had so many submissions I've turned into a rejection-acceptance machine. Hence the efficient reply:-) We were not expecting to go to print before Dec at earliest. We don't need first rights, so you are free to publish your poem elsewhere too.

Very quick turnaround. Drafted the poem on 1 May, finished and emailed it on 2 May, received their response on 4th May. Whew!

And here's a sortie from Operation: Act Normal. Handwritten notes on the paper slip italicised, editor's emphasis in bold:

Dear Ivy
Thank you for letting us see your work. I'm very sorry that we can't help you. And I apologise for not replying personally to you, but we receive about 100 books to consider each week as well as numerous letters offering manuscripts. Most of these receive a "straight" rejection slip but I prefer to send this brief explanation to writers of high quality work.

Our press now publishes over 30 poets, and we need to keep up with their collective output. This won't be possible if we take on too many new authors, so we are only able to pursue publication in very few cases. The fact that I can't respond positively to your submission is no reflection on its quality [*I do know The Monkey's Mask and thought the sample showed you'd picked up on that model very effectively.] — it's more to do with the restrictions of poetry publishing *(now even more restricted with the latest Arts Council cuts.). However, our press is continuing to introduce new poets, and we're still bringing out first collections every year as well as editions introducing major poets from overseas and anthologies aimed at broadening the readership of contemporary poetry. We publish around 3 new books of poetry a year, and it's not possible for us to do more than that.

Best wishes

Lovely. I especially like the first handwritten bit, as if I had done well on an assignment. I wonder if the editor has ever been a teacher?

Anyway, I am charmed. I have sent my work to this press once before and this is the first time I have received this slip. I must be doing something right.

Feels like climbing a ladder most days. For the longest time, the ladder is greased and slippery and you go down down down you go. But very occasionally, the rungs are wide and accommodating, the handholds gilded and warm.

Stillness, a quiet room

On the train back from London, I remembered a time during this visit when I handed a friend a journal containing a poem with a dedication to her.

As she read the poem right then, right there in the pub, I felt tinged with envy. I couldn't do that now, don't know if I ever knew how to read a poem and give it attention properly without being annoyed by the external world. I don't know how to switch off with a poem. Novels, no problem. Short stories, no worries.

With poems, I feel like I owe them something more of me. So I can't do it. If someone gives me a poem to read and digest out in public and I take it, well, I'm probably not reading it. I'm skimming it, making mm-hm noises. I can probably even say the odd insightful idea or two about it but I wouldn't have swallowed it and embodied it, the kind of attention I think a good poem deserves to get.

Ideally, I need stillness, a quiet room.